


Best We Both Forget

by Recourse



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, F/F, Self-Harm, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8677534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recourse/pseuds/Recourse
Summary: Victoria is so pretty. Taylor wishes more than anything that she could tell her that, tell her everything, tell her why it hurts so much to watch her self-destruct like this. But as usual, she says nothing, just sits on her fear and waits for Victoria to do something so she can follow.





	

Taylor’s bleeding again. She’s been bleeding for a while.

She stands in front of the sink, steaming hot water pouring over her left wrist, washing away the blood from the ragged wound she’s scratched into it. At first she’d hoped she’d just get a normal cherry of blood and wasted a bunch of tissues, praying it’d be nothing. But her nails went too deep this time.

It’s sometime after midnight. She covered the clock in her room because it was too bright to sleep, even though that’s not what was keeping her up and she knows it. What’s keeping her up, what’s making her bleed, is herself and only herself, as it’s been for a long time.

She turns the water off for a second, staring at her reddened, angry skin, watching for more bleeding. It seems to have finally stopped. She puts her elbows on the sink, leaning forward, not wanting to look at her face in the mirror. She knows what she’ll see; bags under her eyes, halos of cracked skin below her brows, hair thinning from constant plucking. She’s so tired.

She wipes her wrist with a paper towel and leaves the bathroom, jumping when she hears a loud _thump._ She turns, heart pounding, and sees Victoria with her fist on her door, forehead touching the wood under it.

“Fuck,” Victoria slurs, thudding her head against the door. “Open you _piece_ of _ssshit._ ”

Taylor freezes in place, watching. She shouldn’t. Victoria doesn’t like it when Taylor worries. She grits her teeth and says she’s fine and then goes to throw up in the bathroom alone, locking the door behind her. And then she doesn’t come find Taylor at night like she used to, bringing her out of the bathroom with her gums bleeding, sitting her down and silently being there until Taylor’s mind stops racing. She doesn’t do any of it anymore, she just stalks the halls in silence and does her homework and hardly speaks.

Victoria doesn’t see her. She turns around and slams her back into the door, pitching her head up to the ceiling and covering her eyes with one hand. Taylor can hear her labored breathing from here, watching her slide down the door until she’s sitting and curling her knees up to her chest.

Taylor can’t just leave her out here.

She cautiously approaches Victoria, keeping her footsteps light until she’s right in front of her. She bends down. “Victoria?” she asks softly.

Victoria pulls her hand away and shows her face, pinched in anger until she realizes who it is. Her eyes are red and puffy, bloodshot and blurred. Her makeup’s smeared.

Victoria just sighs, unspooling her body. “Lost my keys,” she mumbles. “I’ll get it open.”

“Victoria...” Taylor bites her lip.

“Get Shameul to do it,” Victoria continues, trying to struggle to her feet. She’s off-balance. “Get a new key t’morrow.”

“V, he’s not here,” Taylor says, offering a hand. “You can’t just sleep in the hall.”

“I’ll be _fine,_ ” Victoria spits, slapping her hand away. “‘sno big deal.”

Taylor’s fists clench at her sides as Victoria stands, putting her hand on her forehead and nearly tipping over. She can’t let this happen. She needs to help, somehow. Victoria couldn’t stand to be spotted passed out in the halls tomorrow morning, and Taylor couldn’t stand seeing her there, so something has to give.

She reaches out and grabs Victoria’s hand. She’s shocked at the way Victoria’s grip immediately tightens, their fingers interlacing. Her heart’s beating out of her chest. Their eyes lock.

“C-come on.” Taylor knows she doesn’t sound very commanding, but when she starts for her room, Victoria follows, stumbling over her own feet enough that Taylor has to stop and put an arm around her shoulders instead. Victoria’s body is so warm.

When they get into Taylor’s room, she lets go for a moment, separating from her in the dark. She swallows, trying to figure out what to do now. She could have Victoria just sleep on the couch. That’s normal, right? That’s what you do in this situation. But how does she even start to say that? How does she avoid admitting that all she wants to do right now is curl up with Victoria, hold her in her arms, keep her safe?

Instead, she just searches around for a spare set of pajamas and stands behind Victoria while she changes wordlessly, trying to avoid looking in the mirror and watching her but completely failing. She’s so pretty. Taylor wishes more than anything that she could tell Victoria that, tell her everything, tell her why it hurts so much to watch her self-destruct like this. But as usual, she says nothing, just sits on her fear and waits for Victoria to do something so she can follow.

Without warning, Victoria suddenly whirls around and grabs her wrist. She pulls the sleeve back, nails running over the scab.

“You’re scratching again,” she says bluntly, her grip tightening.

Taylor wilts. “Y-yeah.”

“Don’t.” Victoria’s eyes scan Taylor’s face, and she shudders, feeling so vulnerable. “Spa day tomorrow. You look like shit, Tay.”

“Sorry,” Taylor mumbles as Victoria releases her and looks around.

“It’s fine.”

Victoria seems to decide she deserves the bed and crawls in, and Taylor just stands there and fidgets, trying to figure out what to do. She should take the couch. She _should._ Victoria’s never one to share, never one to show affection, never one to accept it.

But she’s all curled up, facing the wall, and there’s enough room. Taylor shakes as she lowers herself onto the bed and loops an arm around Victoria’s waist but she’s begging in her mind, _please, please, please._ She wants nothing more than this intimacy, this proximity.

Victoria stiffens, at first. But she doesn’t say anything, and she even nestles herself further against Taylor. Taylor’s shaking subsides after a few minutes where they breathe together, and she closes her eyes, praying that this means something.

And then it’s Victoria’s who’s shaking, jumping in her arms, gasping for air. Taylor holds tighter, but she’s not stopping, she’s crying and Taylor doesn’t know why, doesn’t know what to do, and she’s still doing it and she’s not _stopping_ and Taylor has never seen her like this before, this open, this vulnerable.

Taylor feels trapped. There’s nothing she can do. She doesn’t even really know what’s wrong. All she can think of is just staying where she is, but there are no words in her mind, nothing but fear, nothing but this cracking sensation in her chest.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Victoria’s able to babble something out. It sounds like “I’m sorry.”

“F-for what?”

“Everything.” Victoria heaves in a breath. “But especially this, I k-know what this is, and I want it but I can’t, Tay, I can’t.”

Taylor feels cold, sweat breaking out on her neck. “Why...why not?”

“M-my parents, an-and this fucking school, and—I’m awful, Taylor, I’m a fucking shitty person, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t.” Victoria’s gulping in air now, like she’s drowning. “I didn’t help him, or stop him, or do fucking anything but enable him, and now a girl is dead, and, and...” She chokes on her next words and starts sobbing again and Taylor can do nothing.

Eventually, Victoria’s too exhausted to cry, and she shifts in Taylor’s arms until suddenly they’re facing each other, noses nearly touching in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” Victoria whispers again, voice wet and hoarse.

“Me too,” is all Taylor can say.

But it seems to be enough. Victoria wraps an arm around her shoulders and moves forward and their lips touch, just briefly, and that’s _not_ enough so Taylor closes the remaining distance and parts her mouth for Victoria.

Victoria whimpers as they kiss, tears trailing down her cheeks, the wetness traveling to Taylor’s skin. Taylor lets Victoria lead, as always, and when she breaks apart and curls up and puts her head on Taylor’s chest, she accepts that it’s done. That maybe it won’t come back.

“What do I do now?” Victoria asks, sniffing. “What do I do?”

Taylor can tell her nothing but the truth.

“I don’t know.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> _Well, maybe I am a crook_   
>  _for stealing your heart away_   
>  _and maybe I am a crook_   
>  _for not caring for it_   
>  _and maybe I'm a bad, bad, bad, bad person_   
>  _Well, baby, I know._


End file.
